I am the last human to know the truth.

Three months ago, the lunar orbit shifted, and global communications were interrupted for 72 hours. After recovery, everything changed. My neighbor, Old Wang, started talking to the air, and the stray cat downstairs responded to my whistle in binary. I tried to contact NASA, and the reply I received was a string of strange Morse code, which, when deciphered, only contained one sentence: "#Jager take off!"

I opened my phone and found unfamiliar totems engraved on the chip; when I turned on the faucet, the liquid that flowed out glowed. Last night, the Big Dipper outside my window arranged itself into a QR code, and I trembled as I scanned it, only to find that the redirected page said #BNB100K .